


Sick Day

by Sonsoflibertea



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, secret snape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22148386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonsoflibertea/pseuds/Sonsoflibertea
Summary: Of all the people in Hatchetfield to sleep through the beginning of the end of the world… it seemed right that it would be Paul.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Kudos: 21





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is my secret snape gift for Leslie aka bitchgoblin! Yayyyyyyy

Of all the people in Hatchetfield to sleep through the beginning of the end of the world… it seemed right that it would be Paul.

He was just that kind of guy. The kind of guy that’s always just kind of _been_ there. The kind of guy who’s told you what he does for a living upwards of a dozen times, but you still have no clue.

...The kind of guy that would accidentally sleep through the apocalypse.

In his defense, he _was_ sick. He had had a bit of a cough and a runny nose last night, and he had woken up that morning feeling groggy and gross, so he had hit snooze maybe a dozen times and then given up, turning off his alarm entirely. Hey, it happens to the best of us.

“Coffee… I need a coffee. Black coffee. That’ll do the trick. No cream, no sugar…” he muttered to himself, grabbing his coat on the way out the door. If he hurried, he could make it to Beanie’s and then to work before his lunch break ended. Maybe he could talk to Mr. Davidson about giving him a half day’s pay. And also hopefully not firing him.

He would wonder, later, how he had made it to Beanie’s without getting killed. He had seen what he assumed was a flash mob in the distance and taken a shortcut through Pinebrook to avoid it, but, other than that, he hadn’t run into any singing zombies. Maybe it was luck. Maybe it was fate.

The first time he noticed something was up was when he got to the door of Beanie’s and it was locked. There was a voice in his head pushing through the haze of his cold saying, _That’s strange. Beanie’s should be open. It’s midday on a Friday. Is something wrong?_ But he didn’t pay much attention to it. Instead, he knocked on the shop’s door.

Another moment of luck: Beanie’s doors were made of glass. And Paul didn’t think he was knocking all that hard, but… the glass shattered.

He didn’t even have time to react before, suddenly, there was a gun to his head.

…..

“What do you want from us?”

Her voice was quivering, but her hands were steady. She was fully prepared to blow his brains out. But she wanted information first.

“What--” Paul threw his hands in the air in surrender. “I don’t--I just wanted coffee--”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me. You fuckers wouldn’t _kill_ people for fucking _coffee._ What. Do. You. _Want?_ ”

“Please don’t shoot me. Please. I’ll--I’ll go, I’ll leave, I’ll… I’ll pay for the door… not that I’m swimming in cash right now or anything, but I’ll find a way--”

Her eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, as she listened to him stammer.

“...You’re not singing.”

“What--singing? Why would I be _singing?_ Fuck it, why does it _matter,_ what’s happening? And would you _please_ put the gun down?”

There was a tense moment. Then she said, “No sudden moves.”

“... Okay.” What else could he say to that?

What kind of fucked up fever dream was this? It felt too vivid to be a dream, but it had to be. Paul reminded himself to buy some NyQuil when he woke up.

She slowly lowered the gun.

“...You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“About the singing zombies that have killed most of the town.”

Yeah. This definitely had to be a dream.

“...Okay?”

“And they’re gonna kill you, too, if you’re out there for much longer. I _might_ consider letting you in if you answer two questions for me.”

“Okay.”

“Who the fuck are you? And why the fuck should I trust you?”

.....


End file.
